welcome to the justice lounge

5:56pm, West Harlow - BREAKING NEWS - Unverified reports are now coming through emergency channels of an immediate lockdown at West Mercy Hospital in West Harlow. The nature of the lockdown is currently unknown but it is suspected that there may be a hostage situation taking place somewhere inside the hospital. The names of any potential hostages have not been released. The only information is coming from the nurses’ emergency protocol stations, civilian phones, and EMT radios on-site. Please provide any further information to the GCPD Hotline: *5656

6:14pm, West Harlow - GNN LIVE - We have now verified that an individual claiming to be the Black Mask and a crew of ten followers have occupied the Neo-Natal Ward on the eighth floor of the hospital. So far there have been five unconfirmed injuries to hospital workers and two - no, three deaths by gunshot. There has been no direct contact from the perpetrators with the authorities and no demands have been made. GCPD and SWAT are working tirelessly to prevent any further harm to innocent people. Please, if you’ve received any texts, videos or phone calls from anyone inside West Mercy, please contact the GCPD Hotline: *5656

6:32pm, West Harlow - GNN LIVE - Dr. Evelin Chen-McDougal is confirmed as one of the victims of the hostage-shooting situation at West Mercy Hospital. We do not at this time know whether the doctor is still alive. The leader of the gang, believed to be Arkham Asylum inmate Black Mask, is claiming possession of - oh god - of the newborns at West Mercy, stating that since the Asylum has been reopened he needs a new set of patients to repopulate. GNN has gotten a hold of a recorded voice message sent to Commissioner Gordon, and we will be the first to let the public hear this madman’s demands. Joining us now are two opinions on this current situation - West Mercy Hospital legal representative Petra Gupta, and former Arkham psychiatrist Dr. Kristoff Achtemichuk, who once worked with Jeremiah Arkham himself ten years ago. Stay tuned to GNN for all breaking news as this West Mercy lockdown continues.

( convergences )

The dog is wearing a Robin costume as it runs down the street in Gotham that night. The domino is too tight on it and it pants wildly as somehow, someway, the animal picks up on radar. Sooner, rather than later, it becomes evident why: inside its belly, behind a row of fresh stitches, the screen to a countdown clock blinks beyond the animal’s shaved skin. The screen blinks between each second that passes: WHAT IS THE QUIETEST TYPE OF DOG?

——————————

His first thought is that his enemy knows too much about him.

Perhaps it was coincidence that a dog was the victim used to taunt him, but Damian knows it’s more likely— more likely in Gotham City, at any rate— that the perpetrator determined through observation that Robin displays more empathy toward animals than toward the humans he fights to protect. He admits to himself that it’s not a preference he strives to conceal.

"It’s just fine, dog," he assures the animal after he’s restrained it with a throwing bola. It struggles, frightened and in pain, the countdown flashing its steady rhythm beneath the taut surface of skin. When it realizes it has no chance of escape, it lays its head upon the cement with a low whimper, and Damian echoes it with a distressed noise of his own.

( the loaded deck )

When she woke up, Steph snuck out of bed and to Bai’s kitchen. She came back to bed and left a mug of cocoa by the bed, pressing a kiss into Bai’s hair before going to take a quick shower.



The cocoa was a sweet memory on Bai’s lips by the time she zipped into the shower with her girlfriend, kissing her soundly and wrapping her long, lanky arms around Steph. “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” Bai murmured, licking water from Steph’s shoulder as the warm spray doused them both. “Nobody’s ever done for me like you do, Stephie.”

It didn’t occur to Bai to feel guilty about this, or like she should reciprocate more, or that she was now in debt to Steph, or anything like that. As far as speedster logic worked, she figured that Stephanie made these gestures and overtures because she wanted to, because she loved Bai and was a nurturing person at heart. Bai knew that Steph wasn’t the type to keep some kind of secret scorecard. She wasn’t like that as a friend, and she sure wasn’t like that as a girlfriend.

"You’re —" Bai wrapped her thin fingers up in Steph’s dark-gold, sodden hair, twirling it madly until it was like streamers all around her head. "Stephie, you’re my family here. More than Wally. More than Grampa, even, and Jay and Joan. Ever since Max got taken away into Speed Force, the only other people I got really close with all went away, too. Kon and Tim and Cassie. But now that I have you I kind of…" Bai looked wondrous at the realization. "Missing them doesn’t hurt as much, because I have you."

It had been a long time since Steph had flinched at the sudden feeling of someone materializing around her. Instead, she let her eyes fall closed and lean into the tender touch as the spray of hot water enveloped them. Her own arms looped loosely around Bai’s tiny, slippery hips, hugging her close. “I love you, silly. I like taking care of you,” she replied matter of factly, smiling warmly at the tan beauty in her arms.

The gravity of what Bai was telling her was not lost on Steph. She knew family didn’t come lightly to Bai, especially considering how sporadically she’d come across and lost it over the years (both in this time and the future). So her admitting all of this right now, in a tiny apartment shower, steam and water drowning out everything but the two of them in their barely awake state, made the sentiment all the more intimate. Steph didn’t quite know what to do with that level of trust. The idea of it, at least, made her heart beat a little faster.

( melting down sweet )

the crack between worlds appears

Steph had been dressing for a run (okay, careful jog on Bai’s orders because the walking cast/boot/torture device was off finally) when she felt something in the vein of cool, foreign breath ghost at the back of her neck. She twisted around and punched light. Her fist went through and she could feel that same cold rush of air, though it only chilled up to her wrist, like sticking your hand in a bucket of cold water. It sent goosebumps up her arm and she heard the light calling out her name.

Instinct didn’t give her a choice. Steph grabbed her utility belt off the back of her closet and leapt through the fissure between worlds. For a long moment, she felt weightless and still, frozen in her mid-jump position as an endless nothingness expanded beyond her endlessly on all sides. She simultaneously couldn’t breath and felt no need to. In three heartbeats, the nothingness seemed to shiver and ripple, then morph into somethingness. All at once, that whole gravity happened again and Steph landed flat on her ass with a yelp.

"Beautiful," she said sarcastically to no one really as she stood and rubbed her sore backside.
Wherever she was, it looked like The Walking Dead and Lord of the Rings had a baby. She was in what looked like a dilapidated town surrounded by a thick curtain of trees. The eery silence left Steph wanting her Batgirl suit more than her yoga pants and One Direction t-shirt. She heard a door squeak and saw a figure duck into an old building with a large hole blown through.
“Hello … ?” she called out, pulling out her bo staff.

( oh father )

The next day, once Kyle found out that Steph was squared away safely in her home, the Lantern made his way back to Gotham, exhausted but intent on seeing his friend and making sure she was okay. He knew if the positions were reversed, Steph would move mountains to make sure she was by his side. Chica loca.

He came equipped with the proper tributes: waffles. These were fancy Belgian ones that he’d picked up from one of the many boutique breakfasteries in Coast.

Landing at her balcony, Kyle tapped on the glass door and peered in.

"Steph? Daily subscription of Lantern, stopping in to say hi."

Setting down her textbook on the bedspread, Steph awkwardly stood up (the stitches along her ribs were really getting annoying) to look out the window. Grinning, she hopped over and let Kyle in. “Hi, yourself,” she chirped, hugging him lightly. She kind of melted against him, glad to have her friend safe and sound, despite everything. And honestly, she’d just really needed a solid hug as opposed to overly careful arm pats.

"Something smells good. Are those for me?" she asked hopefully, catching a whiff of something sugary and of the baked goods nature. "Cass filled me in last night on everything, by the way," she said, pulling back and sitting on the edge of her bed, happy bubble deflating some.
Kyle hugged her firmly around her shoulders and then frog-walked them back into her apartment, as he put the box of waffles on the table. He opened it up for her to look at the stack of sugary-cinnamon liege waffles. They were still warm from the bakery.

( my liege )

Steph comes bounding up the stairs and knocks loudly on Bai’s apartment door. “Bai? BAI?!” she calls out anxiously.

Bai is in the tub sculpting a city out of the water, stop-motion powered by the speed force, when she hears the rapping on her door and Steph’s panicked voice. Startled, she drops back into objective time and the grand city of sweeping spires and asymmetrical buildings collapses back into the tub with a huge splash, sloshing out over the side and even more as the speedster climbs out and wraps herself in a kimono robe, already speed-dried by the time the silken fabric slides against her skin.

She goes to the door and opens it, three seconds after hearing Steph’s entreaty, reaching out to press her thin fingers against the other girl’s shoulders. “Stephie? What’s wrong, did something happen?”

Steph reached out, took hold of Bai around the waist, picking her up and pressing her close, cheek to cheek. Steph could smell the vanilla of her shampoo. Eyes screwed shut, she didn’t answer Bai, just breathed in deeply, feeling her thrumming pulse.

Bai didn’t mind the closeness, not one teensy tinesy weensy bit, so she lifted one leg slightly to wrap around Steph as she was picked up. The other girl, normally so grounded and sturdy, felt indescribably … more fragile somehow. Not in terms of her corporeal body, that was as lush and strong as ever, but maybe in spirit? In confidence and demeanor. It was clear that whatever thing had driven Stephanie to come banging at Bai’s door, breathing in her scent as if it were oxygen, it had taken its toll on Steph.
"You can tell me," Bai said, quietly, rubbing her fingertips out in rays from Steph’s spine, along her back. "Whatever it is, you can tell me and we’ll get through it."

Steph kissed the space behind Bai’s ear softly, sighing at the soothing motions of Bai’s hands on her back. She walked them further into the apartment and kicked the door shut carefully behind her. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she admitted, not letting go of Bai. She had the irrational fear that Bai would dissolve like smoke if she stopped touching her, like this would turn out to be some beautiful dream she would unfortunately wake up from.

Walking them down the hall and into Bai’s bedroom, she laid them down atop the mess of soft sheets that smelled like her. She pressed their foreheads together and closed her eyes, holding Bai’s thigh to hitch it higher up her waist. She just wanted to hold her and enjoy the unbelievable relief of having her back. “It sounds crazy,” she tried again. “Most of the League was sucked into a pocket dimension for weeks and nobody had any powers and we were attacked by demons and each other and lots of drama happened. And apparently we were only gone for like, three hours real time.”

She peaked through her lashes at Bai and smiles sheepishly. She felt so warm and safe looking into those pretty brown eyes of hers. “I missed you, honey.” Tentatively, Steph kissed Bai’s forehead and lingered. Then she kissed her nose. The apples of her cheeks. Her lips.

Bai kissed back, turned her face up to receive Steph’s kisses, her leg wrapping more securely around Steph’s waist as they settled down into the bed (piled high with sheets and comforters and cushions; the speedster needed heat and a sense of confinement when she slept). “It would sound crazy to other people maybe,” she said after considering what Steph had related. “But you’re talking to somebody who feels like she’s been away from people for a week when it’s been an hour to the other person.”

She stroked and tickled her swift fingers down Steph’s temples, along her collarbones, over the sweet swell of Steph’s bottom, back up again. “At least you’re safe now,” Bai murmured, leg tucking Steph closer to her. “Safe and home and whatever happened to you there, with the, the demons, spleez, that sounds serious! — you can talk to me about it and I’ll be here and I’ll be here always.”

That was a big promise. It was a big promise for anybody, but for Bai, somebody accustomed to shifting scales of time and the prospect of always meaning fractured shares of never-ending non-speedster time alongside the rapid stream of the Speed Force, it was bigger than that. With Steph’s lips on her face, though, the throaty sound of her voice, it was a promise that Bai felt only the strangest contentment in making.

Steph’s face felt warm and she broke the kiss, bumping noses. She didn’t know what to say to that, understanding a certain gravity behind Bai’s words. It knocked the wind out of her to say the least and, for once, left her dumbstruck and speechless. She smiled, feeling herself start to cry gloppy tears that left hot streaks down her cheeks. But it wasn’t a sad crying. “Thank you,” she laughed, skimming her fingers over the sweet curve of Bai’s waist and settling on the small of her back through the silky robe.

"You’re a miracle, you know?" she said. "I’ll be here always, too." Closing the inch of dead air between them, Steph kissed her again, this time slowly, more reverently. It was a promise, a thank you, an I missed you, and I love you between tingling lips. Her other hand curved to rest in Bai’s soft, pixie-ish hair, running her nails along her scalp. Steph opened her eyes and laughed again joyfully.

"It was crazy. But I think it did us all some good. Put things in perspective," she admitted. "I’m just glad you weren’t there." Because as awful and alone she’d felt at times in Cachement, as much as she had missed Bai, there was no way she could have wished any of that on her. She couldn’t imagine the toll it would have taken on Bai to lose her powers, no matter how short the time. So when she said she was glad she wasn’t there, she meant it. She just wanted Bai safe and sound.

Damian awakens to the scent of something savory wafting from the kitchen, and he nudges Rosalind’s warm, sleepy weight off of his chest. He’s still squinting and unsteady on his feet as he makes way to the dining table. “I want my omelette without eggs.”

"Maybe," Kyle says, relaxing a little when she giggles. It sounds so soothing; moreso, it sounds happy. "I don’t know." He gives up when he sees her deflty adding things to her omelette, and just waits for his to brown a bit more, before putting it on a plate. Kyle nabs the salt and pepper and gives a hearty shake of both, then puts it at the kitchen dinette. Since being here, he hasn’t ever sat down at the dining table. He looks surprised at Damian’s sudden appearance, initially blocked by the kitchen island. "Hi Damian. Omelettes are eggs. They’re just that, they’re…eggs. Like bacon is pork."

"Hello, Rayner." He folds his hands before him and watches Rayner and Mar’i at the stove, mouth pinched with disappointment. "Oh." Still, Kyle cuts a third off his omelette and puts it on a tea plate for Damian, situating him at the dining table as well. "I’ll make you some toast," he offers, putting some slices in the toaster and looking up at Mar’i. "You want some? And is it too early in the morning for abstract theories? Because that’s cool, that’s cool. It’s cool."

Connor walks along the path to the longhouse pushing the door open and looking around at everyone raising his hand in a wave. “Good morning.” He greets. Kyle’s wan face breaks out into a grin when he sees Connor. “Toast! I mean - morning!”

Mari smiles at Damian and uses Kyle’s empty skillet to load some chopped veggies onto the heat. “One omelette without eggs,” she murmurs softly to Damian, starting a little when Rosalind enters and butts against everyone’s legs in succession. She finds a piece of uncooked fish from the fridge and holds it down for the cub to eat. “Keep an eye on the skillet for me, for a second,” she says to Kyle, gathering up one of the teacups and the omelette she’s made—big enough for two people—, along with a glass of cold water, and makes her way back to the bungalow, leaving it on the nightstand for the two Harpers still sleeping curled beside each other. She kisses them both on the foreheads, gently, then jogs back to the longhouse as best as she can without making her ribs more sore. “They haven’t burned, have they?” she asks, peering down into the skillet, then up at Connor. “Good morning,” she smiles, taking her own teacup up and sipping at the bitter willow tea, squenching her nose up at the flavor.

( do you love an apple )

With Roy (relatively) safe and back home and Mar’i also (comparatively) safe and back home, Kyle actually feels rather accomplished and relieved…until he realizes he has just referred to Cachement as ‘home’ in his mind. Which is an annoying thought. He broods in the children’s playground area, sitting on one of the swings and rocking back and forth slowly, looking at the fog in the north. It is rolling in, but then. It always seems like it is rolling in, coming to swallow up the town. And it never does.

Zee heads out towards the playground herself, she wanted to feel the weather outside, but it wasn’t much different from what it had been since their arrival. She drifts on the outskirts of the playground’s domain, but is close enough to where Kyle can see her standing there. A mug filled with cooling tea is gripped between her hands, but this one is plain. There is no owl carved into the porcelain this time. “Hey.” she finally dares, but her voice doesn’t seem to carry, the light wind blowing it away from him.

Kyle looks over at Zee, the swing twisting a bit as his feet bury into the sand. He reaches up to press a hand to his hair, which had all gone a little fluffy after getting that electric current running through him, but Kyle grins and then holds his hand out to her. “Hey you. How’s it lookin, good cookin’? Any more red?”

Zee shakes her head, moving to sit in the swing beside him, “No more red, luckily. I was half afraid that stuff would grow back or something…” she rocks forward, bringing her mug closer to her lips, pressing again the warm ceramic but never taking a sip, “What about you? I haven’t seen you around in a little bit.”

Steph sitting in a tree near the edge of town, she flips through the limited library’s copy of Wuthering Heights. She’d been supposed to read it last year in school but didn’t have the time. Oh, well, no time like the present. Not like she had anything else going on. She looked over the top of her book at the sound of Kyle by the playground and she raises the book, covering her face entirely.

( had me laid out on the ground )

Clark Kent raps softly on the wall outside the doorframe as he sticks his head inside Bruce’s room, the door itself already left ajar. “Heard you were awake," he says as he treads inside, favoring his left leg and doing a poor job of being subtle about it despite his efforts. “How’re you feeling today?"

Bruce lays on his side, eyes barely open and groans when Clark knocks, the noise of it resounding inside the soft, raw inside of his skull. He is deep in the fever, the medicine Kate had given him, hours earlier, nearly worked out of his system. Truth was, it was keeping the fever from arcing too high, keeping Bruce from convulsing, and he vaguely knew that all. It wasn’t anything stronger, it did nothing for the pain that was beginning to make his way through, his ribs aching. But.. Clark’s voice, the lilt at the end of his open question, the light cadence of the words, it made Bruce open his eyes the tiniest bit more. He doesn’t answer him right away, his mouth cracking open with the flaking of the skin around his lips. "..Clark."

Clark seats himself on the side of the king bed, careful not to disturb Bruce in the center of it with his own weight, scooting close to him so he doesn’t feel the need to strain himself by raising his voice. “Hey," Clark greets him again, whispering now to encourage Bruce to do the same. He touches a hand to his cheek and frowns upon still finding it warm, too warm. There’s a basin of water left on the end table, and Clark soaks one the rags strewn beside it, wringing it of excess water before draping the damp cloth over Bruce’s forehead. “Warm here, isn’t it? You’re looking much better," he says, tone optimistic even if he doesn’t necessarily feel it.

”..you’ve always… been a terrible.. liar." Bruce closes his eyes when Clark brings the cloth to his face, unwilling to shut himself off from his senses around anyone else.. except for him. Clark had always been the exception, for so many things, and in so many ways, and that thought lopes through his mind like a ravenous wolf, eating at the corners and miasma of grey, spiked with crimson, that was eating away at the pockets of his mind. The dragon was there, burning and taking. But, Clark was here, Bruce could close his eyes, and he could— Bruce’s eyes opened. “Are we under a red sun?" The dark cobalt of his gaze is glittery, out of focus, but he steels himself to look at the other man, his hand shifting under the covers to wrap around his wrist.

( beneath the curtain branches )